"You think people are actually going to buy that?"
Ronin looked at him in surprise.
"They will."
Kurapika looked back at Ronin steadily. "And if anyone with resources decides to dig deeper, they might even trace it back to us.
"After all, you're way too high-profile at Heavens Arena. Plus, the Phantom Troupe has already retaliated—they leaked your Kurta Clan info on the Hunter website ages ago. Of course, I'm part of that exposed data now too."
"So that's why you've been making me wear disguises every time we go out lately!"
Ronin had assumed Kurapika was just worried about his identity as a fighter causing unnecessary trouble.
Now that he thought about it, that guess wasn't entirely wrong either.
"Won't the smart ones connect the dots? Won't they figure out that this so-called 'Destiny' artifact is actually with us?" Ronin asked.
"They will. They might even come after us."
Kurapika nodded solemnly. "But even without the 'Destiny' story, the two of us are basically walking ATMs worth billions. Adding one more reason for them to hunt us doesn't really change the math."
"The caliber of people coming after us might change, though," Ronin pointed out skeptically.
"True. But this is the best way I can think of to ensure the Scarlet Eyes aren't destroyed before we get to them."
Kurapika sounded a bit helpless. "Taking a risk is better than letting the eyes be destroyed."
"Fair point. The key factor here is still the Troupe."
Ronin understood Kurapika's logic. "If we don't give them a reason to hesitate, their best move to stop me from gaining power is to destroy every pair of eyes they find."
"Exactly."
"But isn't there a risk this lie gets exposed? I mean, there is no actual Divine Artifact called 'Destiny'." Ronin was still worried.
"There can be." Kurapika said seriously.
"What do you mean?" Ronin didn't follow.
"I mean, the rapid power spikes you get every time you obtain a pair of Scarlet Eyes... that's the proof."
Kurapika explained, "And anyone who acquires the Scarlet Eyes and wants to make a wish has to come to us. Only we know the ritual. Only we hold 'Destiny'.
"Most importantly, as long as they investigate in Southernpiece, they'll hear the legends about the 'Red-Eyed Demon Apostles'. They won't have a choice but to believe it."
Hearing Kurapika lay it out like that, Ronin finally got the full picture.
"So your final play is to send me back to Heavens Arena to act as a living billboard?" Ronin asked.
"Right."
Kurapika nodded. "You're in the light, I'm in the shadows. With Millia's help, we can secure all the Scarlet Eyes that get gathered by others. Plus, this whole operation counts as practical combat experience for both me and Neon."
"Alright, I'll follow your lead."
Ronin continued to process the plan in his head. There were still plenty of details he couldn't quite see through, but overall, he felt that Kurapika's strategy was indeed the best move for the current situation.
Neon had been listening from the side the entire time, not participating in the discussion at all.
Her job was simple: give Ronin and Kurapika a fortune-telling session at the beginning of every month.
The rest of the time, just tagging along with them counted as work. When they were resting, she was free to do whatever she wanted.
The car sped toward the airship terminal.
"I have some loose ends in Yorknew to tie up. Won't take long. Once that's done, we can head back to Heavens Arena," Kurapika said from the passenger seat.
Ronin was driving. "What about the Mafia stuff?"
"Millia found someone to handle it for me. Even at the Arena, we can still access Mafia money and intel anytime we want. Don't worry."
Kurapika rubbed the bridge of his nose. Compared to the constant plotting and calculating of September, he preferred the old days—no thinking, just training and getting stronger.
Ronin flicked on the radio. A gentle song drifted out, but it was immediately interrupted by the buzz of Ronin's phone.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, he pulled out his phone. It was a message from Hisoka.
I found her for you. Want to come to Meteor City? She might be in some trouble.
Ronin showed the screen to Kurapika, then typed a one-word reply:
Okay.
---
Meteor City.
Since 1500 years ago, this place had been a dumping ground for waste.
In official records, Meteor City had no human inhabitants. It was classified as an uninhabited zone.
Because of this, even as technology advanced and the world began tracking citizens with ID numbers and biometric data, the people surviving in Meteor City were never registered.
No one cared. No one was going to come here to take a census.
The people living in Meteor City were like ghosts rejected by the rest of the world!
Yet, according to the statistics of the major factions within the city, the population of these "ghosts" had already exceeded eight million.
And that number was still climbing.
It already surpassed the total population of many small countries.
From what Ronin knew, the East Gorteau Republic in the Mitene Union only had a population of about five million.
Ronin's group arrived on a massive garbage barge.
The workers on the ship knew perfectly well that humans lived in Meteor City. They didn't care. In fact, these deckhands—who had a little pocket change—were actually looking forward to arrival.
According to them, as long as you had money, you could buy anything you wanted in Meteor City.
Women, drugs, organs, dangerous species... you name it.
If you could imagine it, someone in Meteor City would sell it.
Ironically, the "women" that these laborers coveted so much were actually the cheapest commodity in a place like this.
As the barge docked, a foul stench assaulted them before they even disembarked.
Looking out, all they could see were mountains of garbage stretching endlessly into the distance.
Crowds of people were already waiting on the shore. Dressed in rags, they stared at the ship's trash with desperate, hungry eyes.
Behind the crowds, heavy dump trucks were unloading more waste, while figures in hazmat suits navigated the refuse piles.
Ronin and the others put on the masks they had prepared beforehand.
It wasn't just to hide their faces; the filters helped keep the stench at bay so they wouldn't be tortured by the smell.
It was already September 13th. After receiving Hisoka's message and handling the affairs in Yorknew, Ronin had come straight here.
This might be considered the "spiritual home" of the Phantom Troupe, but it wasn't their turf.
Meteor City had a complex web of factions, but the Council of Elders held the real power. They were the ones who truly controlled the city's direction.
And this time, Shizuku—the person Ronin was looking for—had managed to offend one of these incredibly powerful Elders.
They got off the boat. As the ship's crew held back the surging crowd, the trio walked onto a small path winding through the garbage heaps.
A car was already waiting for them in the distance.
Ronin opened the door. The driver was a middle-aged man in a sharp suit.
He didn't look like he belonged in Meteor City at all. He looked more like a corporate executive from the city.